We needed it. The ground has been dusty and the grass has been brown. Some spots crunch lightly under my feet when I walk upon it. I woke up this morning and flipped on the television. The satellite feed was jumpy and pixilated, and that usually means atmospheric interference. I peered out the window and sure enough the dawn had that hazy heavy look the air gets just before a thunderstorm. I turned on the computer and opened up the Doppler radar, and sure enough a massive state-sized rain cloud was inching it’s way over Sanford.
Oops. My shower is outside. I needed to hurry. Yes, I know it’s ironic that I want to take the shower before it starts raining, but remember my towel goes outside with me too, and I did not want that to be soggy. Also, I wanted to be out of there before the real lightning rolled in. Standing next to a metal pole stuck in the ground that is dousing me with water is not the best place to stand during a thunderstorm.
I was in a mildly foul mood yesterday. I am not sure where it came from. I think it was being forced back to work after a great little vacation. Looking at the credit card bill I rang up did not help, either. Maybe it was simply hormonal. Either way I spent the day listlessly growling at people and sulking in a pit of my own gloom. I forced myself to go out for a bike ride last night. I did not want to, but nothing gets rid of a bit of a depressing funk like exercise. I had not ridden in a while due to the midge plague, and my thighs burned with the effort. I just imagined every little annoyance that had bothered me that day floating down into the fire in my thighs and burning to a crisp. I got home, sweaty and breathing hard from the unaccustomed exercise, but I did feel a bit better. This morning the light drizzle seemed to wash away the last of my gloom. I’m not a depressing or gloomy person by nature, but I have my moods. Everyone does.
I am going down to the hearing clinic today to see about getting my hearing aid adjusted. It is a digital hearing aid and to get the frequencies adjusted you have to hook it up to a computer. Ever since I got my new hearing aid mold, it just does not seem to be as powerful as it once was. I do not know if it’s the mold, if it’s something I have simply gotten used to, or if I’ve blown out another set of frequencies from my hearing range. Regardless, it seemed to be of little help to me when I went on vacation and Shallan deserves a medal for not getting annoyed at me asking her to repeat herself a billion times. So, hopefully turning it up will help a little.
Nothing much else going on. Just waiting to see how the week turns out.
2026 Update
I'm dialing back to May 2006, where Ed is racing the rain to his outdoor shower and praying the hearing aid doesn't drown.
Twenty years on, this post reads like a museum exhibit. Satellite television that pixelates in weather? A desktop computer booting up just to look at Doppler radar? A hearing aid that requires a clinic visit and a special computer cable just to turn up the volume? All of it is ancient technology, replaced by glass slabs that do everything except deliver a decent night's sleep. Ed's outdoor shower remains unchanged, because nothing about that decision was ever a good idea. The midges still own the swamp; the only difference is that nowadays he would probably livestream the bike ride and then argue in the comments. What really got me is the credit card bill from vacation—now that's automated, quarterly, and delivered with a smiley face by an app that also tracks my heart rate. We traded the rain-washed gloom for a thousand little subscription clouds, and I'm not sure we gained anything but notifications.
“2006 Ed, you've got a digital hearing aid that requires computer programming, yet you live with an outdoor shower and a midge plague—be honest: was the hearing aid failing, or were you just tired of hearing the midges buzz?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, you might be onto something. I mean, the hearing aid probably does need adjusting, sure, the mold never feels quite right, and the audiologist will hook it up to the computer and fiddle with the frequencies until the world sounds like it's coming through a wet sock again. But I can't lie—there's a part of me that wouldn't mind turning the thing down just a hair when the midges are out. Those little bastards can buzz right in your ear and make you feel like your skull's full of angry wire. And my outdoor shower, well, that's just Florida, I guess. But yeah, maybe some of it is me being tired of hearing all the buzzing and the rain and the world in general. Still, I'll go get it adjusted, because Shallan's tired of repeating herself, and I'd rather hear her than the midges. Probably. Take that, tiny bugs.
